


Final Round

by grey_sw (grey)



Category: Tron (Movies), Tron - All Media Types, Tron: Legacy (2010)
Genre: Gen, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-03-21
Updated: 2012-03-21
Packaged: 2017-11-02 07:22:30
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,938
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/366429
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/grey/pseuds/grey_sw
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In the end, it was easy enough for Clu to die -- he'd won the game a long, long time ago.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Final Round

**Author's Note:**

  * For [wtb](https://archiveofourown.org/users/wtb/gifts).



> Winzler asked for "Rinzler's first match" for her birthday -- hope this is everything you wanted! Thanks to DragonWarden and noctaval for beta-reading!
> 
> Thanks to Winzler for the amazing fanart! Click for a full-sized image.  
> [](http://www.tumblr.com/photo/1280/winzler/19859678807/1/tumblr_m1ew54zhUT1qg8uuy)

Clu leaned on his hand, toying with one of the hairs on his chin as he watched the match below. His captive -- the scoreboard just said _ISO_ \-- threw himself to the side, rolling beneath his opponent's Disc. It bounced off the wall and sailed back toward the other end of the Arena, blue edges hissing through the air. Its owner caught it and then waved it in front of his mohawk like a shield, daring the ISO to move.

This program had a name, but Clu hadn't bothered to read it.

For a moment all was still. Then the ISO snapped his Disc out before him. It was a good shot, straight and true. The blue-lit program barely managed to deflect it; it came so close to ending the match that it nicked the top milli off his stupid haircut. Clu watched as a handful of pixels bounced away. The ISO took the opportunity to charge, dashing halfway up the court before leaping to snatch his Disc out of the air. His opponent stumbled back one step, then two.

The ISO was stronger than the other competitors, stronger and faster both.

Of course. Clu had chosen them carefully. 

A moment later it was over. The ISO was too close, and much too strong to resist -- his next blow shattered his enemy's arm, sending his Disc clattering to the floor. The rest of him followed, tumbling down in a shower of blue light.

The crowd roared. The ISO turned to face them, raising his Disc in a warrior's salute.

Clu chuckled. Such a trusting fool. He'd killed the ISOs and razed their cities to the ground, yet this one thought he'd walk free just because he was the Champion. He still trusted Clu, if only to uphold his own rules... but Clu was more than just the Administrator now. The thought brought a smile to his lips. 

Then the ISO turned again -- turned and saluted _him_ , sincerely or not -- and the laughter died in Clu's throat. 

_Time to change the game._

The walls of the Arena began to flow, turning and shimmering like melting ice. They opened out into a wide, six-sided field, nothing like the narrow boxes previous rounds has been fought in. It wouldn't do for the weaker programs to have corners in which to cower, but this -- _this_ was a true battlefield, open and free. Clu had designed it himself. Every line of code was a tribute to his new Champion. 

The crowd began to murmur, first low and then louder. Clu watched as scores of orange and blue-lit programs turned back from the exits, retaking their seats. Then the scoreboard shifted, spinning into a new configuration. 

_Final Round,_ the voice of the System proclaimed. _ISO versus: Rinzler._

Clu leaned forward in his throne, clasping his hands before him. This was the final test. Other than Kevin Flynn, nothing had been more precious to Tron than the ISOs... and nothing was more anathema to Rinzler.

The sound came first, spilling out through the Arena's speakers. It was a low, grinding growl, like a Recognizer with a broken engine. It made Clu think of injury and fury all at once. Then his Enforcer appeared: black on black, with the slightest splash of red below his throat. He reached back and drew his Disc, and the crowd bellowed. Then he split it, stretching twin Discs above his head, and silence reigned over the Arena. 

One of the spectators shouted something, and then the others picked it up. The chant echoed through the crowd, bouncing off the glass of the Arena. Clu turned his ear toward it, eager to hear what his people had to say. 

_TWO DISCS! TWO DISCS! TWO--_

Clu leaned back in his chair, cocking one boot onto his knee. Yes. His Arena was ten times more popular than it had ever been under Flynn. He'd made it better, best, _perfect_... and it was about to become even more so.

Down below the ISO brandished his Disc, shifting from foot to foot. The sight of him made Clu clench his fists until gold light spilled forth from his circuits. He'd marched into Arjia at the head of his Guardsmen. He'd derezzed hundreds of ISOs with his own hands, driving the flaws from his system with Disc and fist and baton. It wasn't enough. Their presence, their very _existence_ still filled him with rage. He felt as if it might burn within him forever, long after the last of them was exterminated... and that made him hate them even harder.

\---

_"You heard him, Tron. The ISOs don't belong here. They're destroying our world!"_

_"I told you, it's not about them. The gridbugs are the problem." Tron's face was cold, impassive. He rarely showed his emotions to Clu, not anymore. Not unless they involved disapproval. Clu turned away, clenching his jaw._

_"They **are** gridbugs," he ground out. "Can't you see that? Flynn just said it: they're 'significantly rewriting' the system. Our system. What will we do -- where will we go when they finally take it from us?"_

_Tron looked away from him, gazing out toward the Portal._

_"It's the Creator's system, Clu. Not ours."_

\---

The memory made Clu growl under his breath. _He_ had built this place, line by line, and no one would take it from him. Not the ISOs. Not Tron. Not even Kevin Flynn, his own Creator.

"I will create the perfect system," he muttered to himself, as Rinzler began to move. "I _will._ "

The ISO threw first, but Rinzler didn't move, didn't react. His hands hung in the air, still clutching his Discs, as if a stray glitch had frozen him. The fission of fear that ran through Clu's circuits caught him by surprise. If he lost Rinzler now... 

Then Rinzler rolled his shoulders, flowing sideways through the Disc's wake. It whispered past, no more than a hair's-breadth from the crown of his helmet; Clu caught its reflection in the black glass, a shattered circle of blue. Before it had passed Rinzler moved again, a flick of the wrist. His Disc was a lash of red light. The ISO yelled, clutching at his hand. When his own Disc came back it hit the far wall, uncaught, and then rolled to a stop beside him. 

Clu leaned forward again. Rinzler had taken something from the ISO -- his pinky finger, maybe, or his thumb -- and now he waited for the battle to begin again, purring patiently. 

Clu couldn't see the ISO's face when he finally looked up. It didn't matter. He could imagine it: the despair, the loss of hope, the pointless, helpless anger. The ISO snatched up his Disc with his off hand and hurled it with a shout. It was an overhand throw, so fierce and abrupt that it struck the floor not two hexes from his feet. It smashed a void in the glass, and then another in the ceiling, bouncing wildly down the court. Rinzler didn't have to move to avoid it. He merely flicked his wrist out again as it passed, knocking it aside with contemptuous grace.

It rolled away and then clattered to a stop, edges rattling against the floor. Rinzler looked down at it, and then up at the ISO; Clu watched his helmet move. Then he stepped back, indicating the fallen Disc with a wave of his own.

The ISO took one step forward, then two. Then he broke and ran, hurling himself toward the gap in the floor. Clu saw it the same moment he did.

"Rinzler!" he roared, leaping up out of his throne. 

The ISO dropped through the gap. Twin Discs ripped through his torso, sketching a perfect X above the Arena floor; Clu watched as the afterimage faded, smiling as a thousand tiny blue lights twinkled down into eternity. Then Rinzler caught his Discs with a flourish, and the crowd leapt to their feet. They cheered until their voices were raw, stomping their feet. 

By the time Rinzler stowed his Discs, bowed, and turned to go, they'd begun to chant his name.

Clu settled back into his chair, musing on what he'd seen. He hadn't ordered Rinzler to toy with his prey, but he'd enjoyed the show just the same... and Rinzler's name would be on the lips of every Siren and Sentry by the start of the next shift. He was beautiful, efficient, the very image of brutal, unstoppable potential... and he belonged to Clu.

\---

_The room was dark. It had to be. Tron's left eye was locked open, a lurid, ugly red. A jagged line of dead pixels ringed it like a scab, running all the way down to his throat. That gravel-growl rolled out of the wound, echoing against the walls, but Tron gave no other signs of life. He stood in the center of the room, unmoving._

_Clu circled him, once, twice. He remembered a mirror, and an open plain beneath the sky, but the memory stung too much to hold onto. Then he came to a stop, reaching out to touch Tron's broken face._

_"You are Rinzler," he said._

_Tron looked up at him. "I am Rinzler."_

_Clu let his hand drop. "You are my Enforcer. You will destroy anything that threatens the system."_

_Rinzler repeated his Directive, his good eye locked on Clu's. There was no hesitation, no flaw. No weakness, no impurity to be driven out._

_Only Rinzler._

\---

Clu folded his arms behind his head, stretching back in his throne. The memory brought a sense of pleasure and ease. He knew that Rinzler's loyalty was no more certain than his own had been, but that didn't matter, not to him. Rinzler, too, was a sword that might turn in his master's hand... but only if he became a threat to the system, and Clu knew that _he_ would never falter. 

Not the way Flynn had. 

Just then the door slid open. Clu said nothing. He just watched as Rinzler came to stand before him, sleek and strong. The streamlined surface of his armor was polished to a high shine. His circuits burned against it, bright with victory, red like User's blood. 

"Rinzler," Clu breathed. "That was... beautiful, man. Perfect. If I'd known you'd be like this..."

Rinzler only nodded. His helmet was blank, revealing nothing, but it seemed to Clu as if the sound he made took on a satisfied tone. Then Clu reached out, stroking along the line of Rinzler' thigh, playing his fingers over the node which shone at his hip.

"Beautiful," he said again. He was thinking of Tron, but Tron would never have welcomed him; not like this, not with a low purr that grew rich and warm beneath his touch. 

He leaned back again, tugging Rinzler forward. His Enforcer followed, leaning down over him. One red-lit glove came up to tangle in Clu's hair; the other dropped to rub clever little circles against his crotch. Clu gave a User-like gasp. 

He hadn't ordered Rinzler to do _that_ , either. 

He savored it for a moment and then pulled Rinzler down over him, grinning at the feel of that non-stop rumble against the logic-ladder on his chest. One of Rinzler's thighs pushed down between his own, rubbing slowly and insistently. His touch sparked new heat within Clu's circuits, as comforting as it was sexual. 

"Helmet," Clu whispered. The black glass retracted, leaving Rinzler's head bare; his hair tickled Clu's cheek. They lay there like that for what seemed like a long time, moving slowly together, until at last Clu allowed his hands to rest against Rinzler's back. His eyes slipped closed. 

He had won.


End file.
